The Children of Akatosh
by thehearne97
Summary: Fresh from one of the bloodiest conflicts in Tamrielic history, The Dragonborn finds himself in Alagaesia. Tasked by Akatosh to save his children, he must come to terms with the atrocities of his past as he is forced to deal with new dangers and a people he once sought to destroy. Despite the hardships he will stand resolute and wreak havoc on the well laid schemes of Galbatorix.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys I decided to start a new fic considering I've hit writers block with Dragon's Due. I'm unsure if I will return to Dragons Due now that I've started here though hopefully you'll enjoy this.**

**I own nothing.**

No one knew who built the Skyforge or when they built it. It had stood in the vast plains of Whiterun since before it was known as such. It had been there before the Companions built their mead hall, Jorrvaskr. It had been there before the snow elves ruled over Skyrim. No one knew what kind of power it tapped into or how it bestowed such legendary potency on all weapons that were birthed in its flames.

A lone figure worked the forge. Night and day he toiled before its mighty flames. He paused not for rest or sustenance, he no longer cared. No longer cared for the warm blood his vampiric nature cried out for. No longer cared for the dazzling sun as it sent searing agony across his sickly pale skin. No longer cared for the joyful laughter of his two daughters for they died painfully and brutally at the hands of the Thalmor for his actions. No longer cared for Serana's loving embrace for she had abandoned him, heartbroken at the deaths of their children and the monster he had become. He no longer cared for the thoughts that tormented him.

The Dragonborn had become single-minded in his hatred and grief. He was forging a sword. A sword that would be baptised in the blood of elves and would be feared by all who followed the twisted ideals of the Thalmor, second only to the one who would wield it. The Second Great War was raging and he was to travel south to The Imperial City to lead the combined armies of the combined armies of Skyrim, Orsinium, High Rock, Morrowind, Black Marsh and what was left of the Empire in order to retake the White-Gold City. Then he would wipe Tamriel clean of the Thalmor and their filth. Through the fire, blood and anguish of war would they learn the pain that they had wrought and the monster they had unleashed.

Painstakingly he hollowed out the ebony blade and filled it with heartstone he had mined on the island of Solstheim. Meticulously he carved runes in Dovahzhul into the flat of the blade, the heartstone causing the markings to glow ominously. He placed the blade into molten stalrhim, the enchanted ice solidified along the edge of the blade all the way to the tip. Every so often placing the blade into a trough of blood from a daedra heart to cool. He mounted a single heartstone core at the centre of the hilt fashioned out of gold that took the shape of dragon. Its jaws clamped at the base of the making it look as if it was protruding from the beast's mouth. Its wings outstretched, formed the cross-guard. The grip fashioned from ebony to suit his hand weather one or both and a spherical chunk of stalrhim made for a pommel stone.

As he worked he chanted in Dovahzhul. He remembered not the words of power he spoke as they imbued the hand-and-a-half sword. In this mighty weapon he placed his very essence. His dual nature of dragon and man. His desire to dominate and destroy his foes utterly and his will to protect and care for those he dear to his heart as well as his equal capacity for both compassion and cruelty.

Holding his newly birthed sword aloft, he gazed southwards. He felt the call of war. The Thalmor would hear his voice and despair.

He looked upon his sword, the Dovahzhul writing saying Dovahstrum. Dragonstorm.

Arya Dröttingu rode atop her noble white horse with her two guards and closest friends and companions, Glenwing and Faolin, flanking either side of her. Her mood was grim.

Once again the sapphire dragon egg had refused to hatch for anyone. By now she no longer cared if it hatched for either elf or human. If they were going to have any hope of overthrowing Galbatorix they needed a Dragon Rider. Not only would it be force to be reckoned with but it also act as a rallying cry for those who wished to see end to the Black King's tyranny.

What was worse was word that the human rebel group the Varden had been infiltrated. Supplies lines had been disrupted, messages intercepted and agents executed. As a result Faolin had become increasingly worried for her safety. His concern moved her as it always did but they could not shirk their duties. She had to continue her vital task of ferrying the egg between the elves and humans in the vain hope that the dragon inside would choose a rider.

Sighing heavily she pressed on with Faolin's presence a constant comfort. As long as he was there she would be safe.

The trio continued on their journey.

Bringing Dovahstrum down in a savage arc, The Dragonborn cleaved an elven soldier in half. His dragon soul was laughing in delight at the clamour of battle. The white buildings of the Imperial city had become stained crimson as the two armies clashed.

"For the Empire! For Tamriel!" The legionnaires took up his battle cry. All he needed was for them to fight. He did not care for the Empire or Tamriel anymore, all he wanted was to watch the Aldmeri Dominion burn.

The Thalmor warriors turned their attention to him and charged as they sought to eliminate the driving force behind the Imperial assault. _Let them come. _He thought grimly as he ignored the destruction spells that hammered into him and the elven blades that glanced off his dragon scale armour. He roared with a fury that was more akin to the dragon than the man.

Soon their arrogant jeers were replaced by howls of pain and terror as he ripped them asunder with his sword, blasted them to ash with his magic, tore out their throats with his fangs and annihilated them with his voice. He looked upon the sea of gold skinned and pointed eared faces with unadulterated bloodlust and hate. Their expressions had morphed from mocking sneers to wide eyed horror as he left their comrades in a sea of broken corpses at his.

"_**Fus Ro Dah!" **_He surged forward as his thu'um cut a bloody swath through their ranks. There would be no retreat, no respite, and no mercy.

"Die! All of you! Die!"

Eragon leaned the scythe against the wall of his uncle Garrow's farm house. It had been a hard day's work as they sought harvest the remaining crops before winter set in. Entering the house, his back ached and his muscles were burning, Garrow was busy preparing stew before he once more prepared to leave for the Spine for he was the only one in Palancar Valley who would dare hunt in those cursed mountains. Roran was nowhere to be seen so he quickly came to the conclusion that his cousin had snuck off to Carvahall in order to court Katrina behind Sloan's back, again.

Entering his small bedroom he gathered his supplies. A hunting knife, his yew bow and a buckskin quiver with a set of arrows. As he packed his supplies he found his mind wondering, as it often did, to his mother. Why did she leave Carvahall in such a hurry? Who was his father? Soon he began to think of life outside of Palancar Valley. He recalled the exciting and fascinating tales of Brom the story teller. Tales about elves, dwarves, kings and warriors of a better age. Best of all were his tales of the Dragon Riders.

Eragon sighed dejectedly. What he would give to be a Dragon Rider. Dismissing the thought as a child's fantasy.

Alinor was once the greatest city in the Summerset Isles, a monument to the pride and glory of the altmer and the jewel of the Aldmeri Dominion. Now it was smashed and burning. Its once mighty walls were now ripped asunder and the very ground was tainted with broken forms of man and mer alike. The air was filled with the stench of smoke and death and the sounds of a nightmare echoed across the once proud city. Blades ringing upon one another, terrible spells discharging, roars of fury, howls of the dying and people screaming as fled in terror from the monster that had come for them.

The Dragonborn was that monster. He cut down all that was in his path regardless weather they fought or not and paying no heed to their cries for mercy nor their mournful wails as he killed their loved ones. He rounded a corner to find two more wretched elves, an altmer male and a bosmer female. The altmer rushed at him only to have his head severed by a vicious slash from Dovahstrum. The bosmer shrieked in dismay and tried to go to her altmer companion but she quickly found herself on the end of The Dragonborn's blade. He sighted a third figure cowering behind the bosmer he had just slain. He lunged forward and the tip of his sword found its mark. A little girl that looked no older than ten.

When her emerald eyes locked with his vampiric orange The Dragonborn was struck by her innocence. He dropped his sword that fell to the paved roadway that ran red with the blood of his sins, clanging like a bell that tolled for souls of the damned. He stared in horror at what he had done. The child collapsed backward and his hands darted out catching her, falling to his knees as did so. He cradled the little elf child as he would have his own daughters. His mind reeled at the memories of Lucia and Sofie hanging by their necks from a lamppost in Solitude, their limp bodies bruised and bloodied. He gazed around in revulsion at the carnage he had wrought. His soldiers were rushing about, butchering all who stood before them. His eyes once more locked with the little girl's. Her breathing was so calm, her face so serene it looked as if she was merely resting in his arms. _This is not justice, _he thought_ this is mindless bloodletting. _He tilted his head skywards and let his anguish explode.

"_**Niid!"**_

Everyone stopped and soldiers all at once became wide eyed in horror, dropping their weapons and falling to their knees. Thalmor and Imperial alike. All had lost the will to fight as they realised the full weight of the suffering they had wrought. He looked down at the child and brushed a stray ebony lock of hair from her face and gently tucked it behind her pointed ear with a gauntleted hand.

"Where are your parents?" he tried to speak softly, shocked at how his voice broke. Her eyes drifted to the prone forms of the altmer and bosmer he had just slain. He felt his undead heart clench when he saw that the bosmer had put her hand on the altmer's as she passed away. "I am so sorry."

Slowly he raised his hand and prepared to cast a healing spell. He gasped as a tiny hand found his. Her emerald eyes bored into his tainted soul and she shook her head slowly. Understanding what the child wanted he let go of the healing spell and curled his fingers around the elf child's own.

"Everything is going to fine," he desperately tried to comfort the little girl "you will be with your parents soon."

She looked up at him with pity in her eyes. Why did she pity him? Why did she pity the monster that had murdered her parents before her very eyes, had murdered her? He did nothing to stop the tears from falling as his head dropped and he wept. His tears did little to wash her dress that had become drenched in her blood. He did not thirst for the liquid that seeped from the wound on her abdomen. He felt only guilt. Guilt at the child he had killed and the family he had destroyed. Guilt at all the other children he had killed and all the other families he had destroyed. Guilt for being a poor father and not protecting his own children as well as being a poor husband and driving Serana away. Guilt as his dragon soul still called out for blood but was feeble as his all too human conscience came to terms with what he had done. Guilt that he would have committed genocide against elven kind had it not been for the child dying in his arms.

He felt a weak hand brush against the side of his head. He turned to see a wondrous smile on the girl's lips a she had seemingly become fascinated with the fact that he had round ears. He found himself wishing with every ounce of his being that this sweet and wonderful child was his own. Slowly her arm drifted downwards, her fingers that he held grew loose, her eyes closed shut, her breathing stopped and her heartbeat ceased to be.

As man and mer knelt in shame the very air shattered with The Dragonborn's mournful keen. He wanted out. He wanted to go far away. He wanted to shut himself from everyone else so he could never hurt another Tamrielic soul ever again.

Unkowingly, his cries unleashed his thu'um and his father would answer. A bolt of lightning fell from the heavens and struck The Dragonborn. There was a blinding flash of light and then he was gone.

The little elf child lay on the hard bloodstained ground. A contented smile on her face as if she was experiencing a pleasant dream.

The Shade that was Durza shifted uncomfortably. If the information was correct then the elven ambassador would be coming along this road and straight into his trap. Over forty urgals were with him and he had made sure to enchant the arrows of those who possessed bows in order to bypass whatever wards the elves would undoubtedly have. He had taken every considerable precaution. The king had tasked him with the retrieval of the dragon egg and he would not fail else he would suffer greatly.

He shuddered unexpectedly. The spirits that possessed his body had suddenly grown restless. Something momentous had just occurred and could not shake the feeling that it was about to come crashing down upon Alagaësia with the fury of a god.

The Dragonborn felt himself be pulled apart and remoulded. He felt energy fill him with new life and his ever gnawing thirst for blood vanished. His once cold undead heart burst to life as boiling blood began to circulate his body. He was blinded by golden light and felt an immensely powerful yet familiar presence. His dragon soul sung in recognition of his father Akatosh.

His vision shifted to see a land he had never seen before. He gazed down upon this new world wondering what his father wanted of him.

_**SAVE MY CHILDREN.**_

The words of his father resonated within his with very essence, never before had he felt a being so powerful. He had no time to contemplate what Akatosh had said as he felt a surge of energy and began to plummet. His heart filled with joy as he entered a new world.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dragonborn awoke to an intense throbbing sensation in the back of his skull. Slowly he opened his heavy eyelids and squinted slightly in the sunlight that slowly began to fade beyond the horizon. The clouds steadily parted to reveal an almost dazzling full moon as night took up its mantle in the sky. A full moon. One solitary moon. His eyes widened in amazement and a slight tinge of worry. _What in Oblivion have I gotten myself into this time? _A new world indeed.

With his head still rather groggy he attempted to pick himself up off the wonderfully soft and comfortable ground, with his body feeling as if it was laden with stone. After what seemed like an age of protesting limbs later he managed to stand upright. Stretched out his arms and legs they steadily loosed as he regained command of his body. He took a deep breath of fresh air to clear the fog from his brain. He had done it, feeling overly proud at achieving the simple act of standing up. Vaguely he became aware of a faint whistling sound that was rapidly increasing in volume and intensity until…

Ping!

It seemed he had asked too much of the twisted entity know as fate. The Dragonborn fell flat on his face, the ground all of a sudden becoming hard and unforgiving. Dazedly he got up and the throbbing sensation had returned with a vengeance. Not throbbing he realised. A heartbeat. Spotting a nearby pool of water he rushed towards it and gasped at his reflection. Staring back at him was a golden death mask with tusks pointing outwards on either side. Konahrik. Warlord.

He took in the rest of his reflection. He wore robes blacker than Alduin's scales and embroidered with gold. Over the robes he seemed to be wearing a set of golden armour that covered his torso, went down his arms and legs and bore a striking resemblance to dragon scales. His mind was reeling as he tried to figure out why he bore the raiment of a dragon priest. If he recalled correctly he had taken the dragon priest masks to the shrine in Bromjunaar and left them there, including the wooden mask so that no one would be able to misuse their immense power. The dragon priests counted among the deadliest foes he had ever faced and he did not want their most prized possessions falling into the wrong hands. The dragon priests worshipped Alduin and by extension Akatosh. It made beautiful sense considering he had been tasked to save his children, the dragons, what better outfit to wear than that of a champion of Akatosh.

Lifting his hand to his face he removed the mask. He regarded his features. It was as he expected, his skin was no longer as white as fresh fallen snow and his once glowing orange eyes had returned to a striking hue of sapphire. He felt a pang of loss at the absence of his vampirism, it was his only remaining connection to Serana and now it was gone. On the other he was relieved that he no longer felt the constant need to drink or the weakness and searing agony of sunlight. He never asked Serana to change for desire for power or longevity. In his experience immortality was only ever a good thing if you had someone to spend it with and there was a distinct possibility that he would never see his wife again for they had parted on bad terms and add to the fact that he was no longer in Tamriel. He decided that no longer being an undead creature of the night wasn't such a bad thing, for now his fond memories of the Daughter of Coldharbour would suffice.

Pushing thoughts of Serana to the back of his mind he took a look around. He had landed in a clearing in the middle of some forest mostly made up of oak trees. His eyes fell to an object by his feet that looked completely out of place. The same object that had the audacity to fall apparently from the sky and knock him to the floor. He picked it up and glared at it as if daring the object to try and strike him again. It was a bizarre thing that looked like a glossy black stone with veins of red, gold and blue webbing its surface. It was about a foot long and had an oval shape like an egg and The Dragonborn had a sneaking suspicion that it was exactly that. Though dragons were more akin to the daedra in that they were immortal and had no offspring, the way his dragon soul and all the countless others he had devoured that seemed to sing to him as he looked at the object told him that it was more than possible that dragons were different here. Regardless of the difference, Akatosh had tasked him with saving them but that also begged a question as to what sort of threat would warrant the need to save such a mighty race.

He was snapped out of his contemplation by a rather violent tremor that shook his body originating from his stomach. It seemed that one craving had been replaced with another. Tucking the possible dragon egg into his robes he ran a hand through his slightly unkempt raven hair and down his neatly trimmed beard. He turned away from the pool and put Konahrik back on his face, the mask somehow resting perfectly on his features and remaining put. It did nothing to impede his breathing despite being a solid chunk of metal nor did it obscure his vision even though the eye slits were no bigger the sowing needles. In fact he could barely feel it on his face at all.

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><p>As he walked through the forest in search of food he noticed his senses were sharper than normal, sharper than when he had been a vampire or werewolf. He could see clearly despite the forest being shrouded in twilight. He could hear all manner of nocturnal creatures as they scarpered to and fro. A light breeze blew towards him and that was when he noticed his sense of smell.<p>

The stench of unwashed and sweaty bodies drifted to his nostrils. Someone or rather a large group of someones were hiding in the woods and he guessed that he had stumbled across a group of bandits waiting to ambush someone though he doubted it was him. His hand instinctively wend to his hip and his pleasant surprise found the pommel of Dovahstrum. Quietly drawing his sword he cast an invisibility spell and stealthily began to crawl to whatever was laying in weight.

As he continued along he sighted a moonlit road and crouched either side facing away from him were band of particularly brutish looking creatures. They appeared human except for a pair of horns that sprouted above their ears and curled above their heads. They faced away from him confirming that he wasn't their quarry but curiosity bode him to stay and find out who it was they were after. Another breeze wafted towards him and he picked up a new scent of crushed pine needles. Looking down the road he heard a familiar clatter of hooves and spotted three horse mounted figures. Elves. His dragon soul bristled in fury.

Observing the three elves they were unlike any type of elf he had seen before back in Tamriel. Their forms were as lithe as any bosmer and yet their movements bespoke the grace of an altmer. Two of them seemed to be guarding an elf maiden who held an air of nobility and authority. She clutched a pouch on her lap like a new-born and he found himself wondering what it was that she was holding onto so dearly.

He pondered as to whether or not he ought to get involved. Even though his dragon soul still hated their kind, three elves hardly seemed worth the effort especially since they seemed to be riding headlong into a well laid ambush. Helping them was out of the question he wasn't quite ready to start forgiving just yet. His mind flashed with an image of the elf child dying in his arms and he sighed. He was aware that it was the Thalmor who had wronged him not the whole of elven kind and he was aware that his view on the species was tainted but whenever he looked upon their angular features, slanted eyes and pointed ears he was always reminded of the arrogant and mocking visages of the Thalmor justicars that jeered at him in the streets of Solitude when he saw the strung up remains of Lucia and Sofie.

The wind changed direction and blew in the direction of the elves along with the stench of the horned creatures that the horses picked up on. As the equines halted in alarm the ambushers let loose a volley of arrows that veered precisely towards the leader's companions slaying them instantly, it seemed they wanted to take the leader and likely what she was carrying intact. The elf maiden cried out in dismay at the deaths of her companions and darted off into the woods in the direction where he was hiding. That was when he saw her clearly with emerald eyes and ebony hair. _She just had to look like the child. _He thought irately, cursing the twisted entity known as fate and its deranged workings. Now he had no choice but to help her as his conscience had once again overruled his soul. As he prepared to cover the elf's retreat a beam of ruddy light speared through the air and striking the horse down sending the elf maid sprawling. His eyes followed the spell's trajectory to the point of origin. A tall man with sickly pale skin, maroon hair and crimson eyes. He stared at this new figure who was oblivious to his presence. There was something unnatural about this person that felt simply wrong, that it did not belong in the world and should not exist at all. The Dragonborn felt something ominous radiate off the being as it strode forward with a cruel and sadistic arrogance that bespoke something that was wholly evil. _Definitely should help the elf._

As she turned to flee a group of the horned creatures rushed at her their swords raised. This was when The Dragonborn made his presence known. The creature closest to the elf howled in agony as he melted the flesh off its back with an incinerate spell. The second creature barely had time to turn as he reduced its cranium to ash with a quick lightning bolt. He rushed the nearest creature and plunged his sword into its stomach, withdrawing drawing the blade and spinning for momentum he severed its neck sending its head a good two feet skywards. Ducking underneath the blade of another one he swiped low at the creature's feet sending it down he raised Dovahstrum in a reversed grip and brought the point down through the creature's chest pinning it to the ground. He then elbowed another one in the stomach brutally when it tried to get behind him driving it to its knees. Leaving Dovahstrum in the corpse of the previous one he seized onto the creatures horn with his left hand tilting its head back he slammed his fist into the creature's throat the sharp scales making for excellent weapon in unarmed combat as he utterly pulverised its neck.

With no immediate threats he recovered his sword and regarded his handiwork. Be it through mundane or arcane means it was no mistake that he was considered one of the deadliest individuals to walk the face of Tamriel and one of the things he was feared for was the carnage he left in his wake. For all his skill he left truly messy kills, he chuckled darkly and waded through his latest tapestry of gore towards the rather bewildered looking elf maid who regarded him wearily with her leaf shaped sword in hand. "Do you require assistance fahliil?" She flinched at the venom he put behind the Dovahzhul word for elf, in truth he would have trouble putting more venom into the word child-molester. The newly dubbed fahliil remained put.

"If you have a safe place in mind I suggest we move fahliil." He said with less venom, rather annoyance. This was not the time be stubborn. "Now!"

Seeming to have got the message across The Dragonborn and fahliil began to sprint north east at full pace. _Gods she's fast. _Indeed fahliil seemed to be running faster than what most people could achieve on horseback. Despite matching her speed with ease The Dragonborn was silently hoping that the rest of her kind did not possess the same incredible physical abilities. The two skidded to a halt as the path before them erupted into flames. Turning around he came to face the maroon haired man who carried a long thin sword with a single scratch running the length of the blade.

"Hand her over," he spoke confident in what he expected to be an easy victory. The Dragonborn did not doubt that this man would be a formidable opponent but he had no idea what the son of Akatosh was capable of. "You cannot stand before me."

The Dragonborn looked between the man and the fahliil unsure as to which one reminded him most of the Thalmor. "Innumerable people have said those exact words to me." He replied to the red eyed man "I have broken them all."

The red eyed man raised his hand and uttered something in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. He braced himself for the impact of a spell. Just as the ruddy light appeared it vanished. The air around The Dragonborn seemed to shimmer and distort and he felt a surge of magicka course through his body, once again he was glad that he studied alteration. He rushed at the red eyed man. Their swords clashing together with an almighty clang. As they pushed against one another hoping to shove the other off balance The Dragonborn was impressed with the man's strength though he was hardly alarmed, nothing short of a dragon could knock him on his arse in combat. Swiftly he withdrew his sword and swung the man again who parried the strike. Again and again he repeated the process holding both hands near the base of the hilt for speed and precision his body was a blur of movement as he relentlessly drove his opponent back. The man having realised that he'd underestimated The Dragonborn called on his horned allies for aid.

The Dragonborn was vaguely aware of fahliil as she darted around him cutting down the horned ones with contemptuous ease. Unfortunately he was surrounded on all sides and fahliil could only do so much to keep them off him. One of the horned creatures made it past his companion and he impaled it but the creature held onto the crossguard with a death grip, he could not bring his sword to bear as the red eyed man struck back. Knocking the man's sword aside with his wrist he brought his fist across the man's jaw in a savage right hook. He pried his sword from the dead creature and raised in time to meet the red eyed man's blade and they locked blades once more. He elbowed the man in jaw staggering him then he proceeded to backhand the same place sending him reeling. The Dragonborn finished off by performing an Akaviri style snap kick to the exact same place sending the man sprawling from his pulped jaw.

The Dragonborn was about to move in for the kill but then the fahliil raised her hand and began chanting in the oddly familiar language. Held in her hand was a sapphire coloured stone that sent his dragon soul singing. His eyes widened at the sight of another dragon egg. Out of nowhere the red eyed man brought his sword slashing across his unarmoured side. He gritted his teeth in agony and cursed the elf for distracting him.

A blinding flash of emerald light engulfed the egg and he all of a sudden felt the ground give way beneath him. Carefully he picked himself wincing as he clutched his wounded side. He made out the prone form of fahliil seemingly unconscious. The red eyed man stood between him and the elf with a mask of pure rage as for the dragon egg there was no sign, he realised that the elf must have cast some form of transportation spell. Holding his side that was bleeding profusely he wouldn't have time to cast a healing spell before the man was upon him leaving him in no state to stand up to him and thus rescue the elf. This left him with only one other option.

"Unslaad krosis, fahliil." He turned away and mustered his thu'um.

"_**Wuld Nah Kest."**_

The Dragonborn sped off into the night leaving the red eyed man to vent his fury on the horned creatures and the surrounding countryside. Flames billowed around him as The Dragonborn ran. The red eyed man seemed intent on burning the entire forest. Coming across the clearing he first landed in he darted straight to the pool a healing spell in one hand and a waterbreathing spell in the other. He dived headlong into the water and waited for the magic fuelled firestorm to run its course.

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><p>When The Dragonborn resurfaced it was already late morn and the light of the sun was obscured by clouds of ash. The once quiet forest had been reduced to a sea of ash and cinders in a never ending expanse of grey. He cautiously picked his way through the barren wasteland reminded of his wondering of the southern ash wastes of Solstheim. He have expected an ash hopper or burnt spriggan to appear from the ground. He came across the blackened husks of the horned creatures their scorched features almost unrecognisable. Looking around he saw no sign of the red eyed man or fahliil. Most likely he had taken her prisoner as she was probably the only one who knew the location of the sapphire dragon egg.<p>

Making his way to the road he found her fallen steed remarkably untouched by the flames. Searching through the saddlebags he found a coin purse that jingled with a satisfying weight. Further rifling through her belongings he found some dried fruits and nuts, a bed roll, some camping equipment and a single glass orb containing a blossom of black morning glory. He wondered at the significance of the flower before placing it into the elf's woollen travel pack, figuring that she longer had need of it. Eating some of the dried fruit in order to alleviate his empty stomach he savoured the sweet taste after having spent so long living off blood alone. He walked up to the remains of the fallen elves also unmarred by the red eyed man's forest fire.

Examining the nearest of the two he took interest the bow made of a type of wood he had not seen before and a silvered leaf shaped sword that appeared too thin to be practical. Looking through bags he picked up some more money, some more fruits and nuts and a map of this alien land, something that he would no doubt need there was also a beautifully ornate six string lute and flute. On the second elf was an elegant spear and dagger, an exquisitely wrought helm of amber, yet more dried fruit and nuts, another weighty coin purse and a glass orb containing a single blossom of black morning glory identical to fahliil's. Once again he contemplated the meaning behind the flowers wondering if the two elves had been close friends, family or lovers. It would certainly explain why fahliil was so distraught seeing her companions cut down. Digging further into the saddlebags he found a folded note. Opening the note he realised with a start that the language was not all too dissimilar to Elfonhex, the language spoken by the aedra and the daedra. Looking over the glyphs noting a few differences as if Elfonhex had altered over time, as most languages did.

_F__ä__olin-…_

_I am aware that you and my daughter Arya have … and though she and I are no longer on good terms it would ease my heart if you were to … her foolish endeavour as she carries out her duties as … for our people. Should prove … I shall consider approving a … between you and Arya._

_Queen Islanzadi._

_May the stars watch over you._

It seemed he had been in the presence of elven royalty. He placed the items into his travel pack but left the weapons on the bodies. They would hinder his travels and it was unbefitting one who fell in combat to lose their weapons living or no. If he needed any other weapons apart from Dovahstrum he would simply conjure them.

He opened the parchment map and frowned as he stared at the unfamiliar landscape. Thankfully one of the elves had seen fit to draw a dotted line marking their route, going from a place called Ellesméra in the vast forested region called Du Waldenvarden to a place called Farthen Dur in the south-eastern Beor Mountains. If he was looking at the map correctly the mountain range he could see towards the west was the Spine. Therefore the nearest inhabited region was Palancar Valley.

Turning back to the elves he muttered a quick prayer to Arkay and bathed the two in flames giving them a warrior's funeral. Turning westwards he began to make his way towards the Spine.

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><p>The air was cold as night fell when The Dragonborn set up camp, but he was a nord and was used to far worse not to mention that there were still lingering elements of his vampiric and lycathropic attributes including his resilience to the cold as well as a resistance to disease and poison if his unusually healthy body was anything to go by. He withdrew the black dragon egg and took a moment to admire its polished surface. He recalled how fahliil, Arya according to Fäolin's note, had fought hard to protect the sapphire dragon egg as well as the rage of the red eyed man when she had cast the transportation spell. Putting the egg down by his side he set down his bed roll and turned in for the night.<p>

The Dragonborn awoke some ours later with a start and if he was to guess he would say it was roughly midnight. Straining his ears he was able to make out a faint squeaking noise. At first he thought it was just a wild animal but dismissed the thought quickly. He could still smell the burnt out forest despite having cleared it some time ago. The animals would have fled far and wide to escape the flames. He tried to pinpoint the sound as it steadily got louder. He brought his attention to the dragon egg that was rocking about and shaking violently.

With a sound like splintering stone out popped the dragon sending shards of broken shell in every direction. The first thing he noted was a pair of front legs. _As if they weren't dangerous enough already._ Though he doubted that this dragon was too dangerous. The words "cute" and "scaly" seldom met in the same sentence. He would especially not think to attribute the "cute" to a dragon. The hatchling peered its head in his direction its golden regarding him curiously. He noted that the hatchling's black scaled had a very pale blue tinge like ice. Then the spaces between the scales seemed to glow red like embers, reminding him of heartstone. He gasped as he realised that the colours of the new born dragon were identical to Dovahstrum.

At that moment he had no idea what possessed him to reach out and touch the dragon with his right hand. The moment his palm made contact with the little dovah's snout a sensation rushed through him that he would never forget. Icy rivers of fire coursed through his veins and his dragon soul sung with such mind numbing passion it was almost deafening. _Dovahkiin. Dovah Zoriik. Dovakiin. Dovah Zoriik._

Dragonborn.

Dragon Rider.

The words resonated through his soul as he blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay so this chapter is reletively short but will have major significance to the plot. Also if you're wondering to what The Dragonborn is wearing look up Konahrik's Accoutments mod for skyrim. It looks awesome. I'm unsure whether or not I'll do any POV's for the other characters, let me know in the reviews if you want me to.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>The Dragonborn awoke berating himself for not getting a good night's sleep. It was then he noticed the small and somewhat scaly weight that was resting on his lap. The hatchling nuzzled him in the underside of his chin. He scratched the back of the dragons head and it promptly tilted its head back and toppled on to its back cooing in delight as he made scratch its belly. The Dragonborn chuckled at the absurdity of his predicament. Here he was with a creature that he had slain countless of, including the first, shouted them down from above and had their souls bouncing around inside of him. Here he was scratching and petting a dragon as if it was a common house puppy, albeit one that was currently no bigger than a snow fox. A slight tingling on his palm brought his attention to a circular scar that glowed with a faint silvery light.<p>

"It seems you two have taken a liking to one another." The voice snapped him from his reverie as he stood up, alarmed that someone had managed to sneak up on him. Standing before him was a powerfully built man with a thick grey hair and an equally thick beard running down to his chest. He wore simple white robes like a monk and around his neck he wore a heavy iron chain with a wooden and unornamented hourglass hanging from one of the links. His feet were bare and his face bore a mask of serenity and compassion. His eyes were the most striking of his features. They glowed with a warm golden light and yet they held great sorrow as if they had witnessed the passing of eons. The Dragonborn was stunned. He had seen this man rendered in statues in temples, cities and holy places across Tamriel. His dragon soul stood humbled before his father.

"B-but you're an aedra," he managed to splutter before sinking to his knees in reverence to Akatosh the god of time, invincibility, everlasting legitimacy and the father of dragons. "how is it possible for you to be here."

"And dragons produce no offspring and only have two hind legs." Akatosh said, his lips stretching into a small smile "Who alone has the power to change their very nature?"

"This is your realm." The realisation dawned on The Dragonborn like a hammer blow "But why then do you need me?"

"Aedra do not typically intervene directly in events, an exception being the Oblivion Crisis," Akatosh explained in a patient manner. "If I were to constantly overcome their problems on their behalf the mortal races will become dependent upon me and thus sacrifice their own freedom. But when a crisis does occur I do not sit idle and that is why I have brought you here and have bonded you with a dragon."

"Bonded?" The Dragonborn wondered what his father was saying.

"You are now known to this land as a Dragon Rider. Granting you great power but it will also put you in great danger."

"Like that man chasing after the elf last night?" Curious to see if this was the threat that he was brought to face.

"That was a Shade, a mortal possessed by daemonic spirits, called Durza." Akatosh clarified "But he is only symptom, a puppet in the service of the real threat to my children and this land, as you will later come to understand."

"Then what would you have of me?" He said rather stiffly. Once again he was being thrown in by some divine power to face some great threat like Alduin, Harkon and Miraak. He hated the sense of not being able to control his own destiny. It made him feel like a puppet with fate pulling the strings. Such thoughts never sat well with his dragon soul. And he always left so much death in his wake. When he thought about it his armies probably remained loyal to him out of fear of what he'd do to them if they did not. Even if he was to be the puppet of fate he wanted to be remembered for something other than deeds of carnage and mayhem.

"What would you have of me?" his father replied with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I know the workings of your mind better than most and have watched over you since my first-born unwittingly saved your life."

"What do you mean?"

"I have had you perform services for myself Tamriel and now here and it is possible that I shall ask more in the future" he lay a gentle hand on The Dragonborn's "I believe it's high time you got something in return. Ask and I shall provide if I can."

It took some time for The Dragonborn to process the weight of his father's offer. He could effectively ask for anything he wanted and he'd receive it. But what did he want? He thought about Serana but decided against asking his father to bring her to him, she did not need him to ruin her life all over again. He wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to go back to Tamriel, not after everything he'd done. He thought about this new world and the dragon that was curled up on his shoulder. Then he realised. This was a new world where no one had heard or knew of him, this was a second chance. A second chance to forge a legacy worthy of song and legend. He smiled as he decided what he wanted.

"I want you to make another dragonborn in Tamriel and then I want you to send them to me for training," Akatosh raised an eyebrow and his son clarified "I may be remembered for deeds of violence back home but here I can start a new and forge a different path."

"Your request is an unusual one." He stroked his beard in thought "any of your other predecessors in your current position would have either asked for power or would have asked about what happened after they left but you are different from the others."

"How so?"

Saint Alessia sacrificed herself for the sake of all Tamriel, freed humanity from an existence of slavery and ensured that Mundus would remain safe from the predations of Oblivion, she was my greatest achievement with the dragonblood." Slowly he paced around putting his hands behind his back. "Miraak on the hand was my worst achievement. When you fought him you witnessed how far a dragonborn can fall, he willingly embraced the power of Oblivion and given time he would have sought to subjugate all of Tamriel." He then turned to stare directly at The Dragonborn, his gaze feeling as if it peered into his very soul despite wearing Konahrik. "You however have gone through both extremes of what is considered to be good and evil and have emerged on the other side having gained a new and unique perspective on life that very few possess. You are my proudest achievement."

The Dragonborn did not know what to say. To think that he had been likened to both Alessia and Miraak at the same time was bizarre but to be called the proudest achievement of a god by none other than said god left him speechless. Thus he remained silent trying his best to keep his composure as a maelstrom of emotions raged within him. Akatosh however was not finished.

"Alessia would not ask for another dragonborn because of how dangerous they can be as you well know. Miraak would not want a rival to his power but you are different." The dragon-god smiled lovingly "I shall do what I can."

"Thank you" The Dragonborn breathed after an audible silence.

"In the mean time I shall use the manner that is most effective" his father turned away and began to walk softly on his bare feet.

"Which is?" The Dragonborn called after him.

"To simply allow you to do as you see fit." Akatosh chuckled as if there was some unseen joke. "Welcome my son, to Alagaësia."

The finally sun finally rose above the horizon and The Dragonborn was momentarily blinded. He blinked and Akatosh was gone. He stood there staring in wonder at the new found beauty of this particular sunrise. He did not ask his father for more information on Alagaësia for he would undoubtedly learn it himself. He did not question why n evil such as Durza walked the land, greedy mortals were certainly the cause. The dragon leapt of his shoulder and looked up at him expectantly urging him to do something. He removed his mask and smiled warmly at the beast.

"Let's go then."

He packed his things and headed off towards the Spine Mountains and Palancar Valley to the west. The dragon loping beside him as he walked.

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><p><strong>Ooh this can only mean new character who's POV shall be in the next chapter. TA TA!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay so here we are introducing a new character as a result of daddy Akatosh's pressie for dragonborn turned dragon rider son. **

**Enjoy!**

Ash storms engulfed the southern half of Solstheim making an already harsh environment all but inhospitable. Over two hundred years since the Red Year and Vvardenfell was still burning. Frea of the Skaal trudged along the ash ridden path unsure of her future. As she made her way towards the Earth Stone she thought of how her parents and brother would scald her if he ever found out that she had decided to take the road through the city of Raven Rock. At the thought of her family she felt tears threaten to from her icy blue eyes. They had banished her from Skaal village until such a time that she had completed the Trials of Aevar Stone-Singer, she had barely even come of age. According to them she was too wild and held unhealthy fantasies of adventure that did not hold true to the teachings of the All-Maker. She remembered the tales of her great great grandmother for whom she was named after in journals that she had written before she had become shaman. Wondrous and exciting tales about adventure with The Dragonborn, her childhood hero as they battled against Miraak and saved the Skaal from enslavement.

Thoughts of The Dragonborn helped to brighten the young Skaal's mood somewhat. At least they had allowed her to keep her twin stalhrim swords. Stalrhim weapons and armour were only ever given to the mightiest of Skaal warriors and the fact that she carried two swords that she would dual wield in combat spoke volumes of the fiery-haired nord's prowess. She pulled her fur lined hood further down her face as the ash storm got even more violent, the nordic carved armour that clung to her petite form did nothing to guard against the almost scorching hot winds. Solstheim was truly the land of ice and fire.

She examined once more the strange object she had found under a burnt out tree intently. An oval shaped stone, about a foot in length that made a hollow ringing whenever she tapped it. The stone was the same bore the same crimson as her hair, though various shades of blue veins webbed its surface, ranging from pale blue like stalrhim to a deep hue of sapphire. She stuffed the strange object into her travel pack and slung it across her back. Perhaps her father could tell her what it was when she returned. If she returned.

Her horse pulled trotted along the road from Skaal Village past Tel Mithryn and towards Raven Rock. The air was clear and she could see for leagues in every direction. She looked out to the Sea of Ghosts and south to the angry mountain that was perpetually spewing ash into the sky. The road was straight as it led to the Bulwark.

She drew her nordic bow and nocked an arrow. This was by far the most dangerous part of the journey. The shaman of the Skaal, her father had insisted that she underwent this trial alone but had stressed to her the danger of the southern wastes of the island and the importance of watching the ground beside the road, especially where the ash seemed to pile up like dirty snow drifts. Even now the undead ash spawn were a constant threat to any who travelled the southern wastes of Solstheim.

Slowly moving along she scanned the terrain around her suspicious of even the slightest movement. She made out a strained groaning noise nearby. It sounded like someone was in pain.

"Hello?" She called out in her thick nordic accent. "Who's there?"

The groaning seemed to be getting louder but she could not make out the source ahead of her. Unless she was mistaking she was more voices were joining the first, forming some sort of twisted cacophony of tortured groaning. Her horse stopped in its tracks refusing to go on. Instead it neighed loudly, its eyes darting about in alarm.

That was when she heard it. A faint whooshing sound that steadily grew louder until she realised it was the sound of an incoming firebolt. Her horse whined in agony and toppled over sending Frea face first into the ground. She stood up spluttering and spitting as ash found its way into her mouth. She quickly stood up and raised her bow. She gazed in revulsion as she finally saw her enemy.

A grotesque imitation of a body made of dirty crumbling stone waddled towards her its chest and eyes glowing like smothered embers. It raised a jagged blade of hot glowing stone and tried to rush her. Frea loosed an arrow striking it in what she assumed was its throat. The nordic arrow embedded itself in the crumbly dirt and the ash spawn fell apart leaving a pile of yellowy dust on the ground a relived gasp escaping its twisted mouth. More ash spawn began to rise out of the ground around her.

Frea loosed arrow after arrow into the incoming undead, leaping to the side every so often to avoid their dirty firebolts. More and more began to rise as she put them down with her bow. Her father didn't say that they attacked in such great numbers. She slung her bow across her back and drew her stalhrim swords that she had earned by slaying a particularly troublesome werebear as well as hunting down reavers that often plagued the village. The ash spawn slowly began to encroach on her position. She held her ground, the Skaal learned from childhood not to fear death for they would return to the All-Maker. The creatures before her were abominations and a violation against the will of the All-Maker, the more of the fiends she could end the better.

She outstretched her swords to her side for momentum and charged. The ash spawn with their dull minds and cumbersome bodies could not hope to match her speed. She darted to and fro dodging their clumsy swings with ease slashing and thrusting and chopping with her icy blade. The creatures let loose pained howls as the stalhrim bit into them, its magic utter anathema to the ash spawn. She continued her dance of death lopping off limbs shattering fragile stone bodies and leaving mountains of ash in her wake. There was a break in the fighting and Frea paused for breath and looked on in dismay at the literal horde of ash spawn that was coming towards her and the imposing figure that stood among them. A dunmer necromancer.

There was no way she could fight them all. She turned towards Raven Rock and ran. Under normal circumstances she would head north where they could not walk in the snow and ice but Raven Rock was closer and her father spoke very highly of the elite Redoran Guard.

She heard a whooshing noise and was buffeted by a bitterly cold wind and ice formed on her back. She ignored the frost spell, the fiery haired nord having endured far worse from the elements in her own home. The mighty portcullis came into view and she was emboldened by the sight of it opening and battalion of bonemould clad Redoran Guard striding out in perfect rank, shields raised, swords and spears at the ready and war cries upon their lips.

"For Morrowind and House Redoran!"

Leading the warriors was a truly awe inspiring woman who was built like a bear. She held an elegant elven battle-axe in one hand as if it weighed no more than her own arm. Frea stopped before the dunmer battle lines that had swiftly formed under the direction of their captain. The ash spawn stopped, the necromancer unsure of how to proceed. Frea collapsed to her knees in exhaustion. The dunmer captain strode confidently up to her proffered and stamina potion. The young Skaal accepted it and was quickly amazed at its potency, feeling as if she had just got out of bed and walked into the refreshing northern air. The captain offered a hand her red eyes burning with determination.

"Captain Sabyne Veleth of the Raven Rock garrison" she introduced herself as she helped Frea up "will you be aiding us?"

"Skaal do not fear death!" Frea replied proudly. "I am Frea and I shall fight."

"Stay close to me," the necromancer made up his mind and commanded his ash spawn forward. "Archers!"

Atop the Bulwark guardsmen let loose their arrows into the incoming horde scything them down in droves. Frea was in awe. Skaal fought in loose bands of warriors and hunters. The Redon Guard fought with discipline she did not think possible. The archers fired in synchronised volleys pausing only to draw more arrows. The soldiers on the ground formed a formidable shield wall and brought forward a lethal hedge of spear points. Frea stood beside Sabyne and bombarded her foes with ice spikes. They met the ash spawn head on impaling them on spears and smashing them apart on shields. Piles of ash rose higher and higher and soon the undead were stumbling over their own remains.

"Break formation!"

At once the Redoran Guard threw their spears at the enemy and drew their swords. They surged forward in a fearsome counter charge with Sabyne at the head, cleaving the dirt corpses in twain with mighty sweeps of her battle-axe. Frea followed close behind slaying any who made it past the captain with ferocious strikes with her stalrhim swords. Frea could hear the necromancer shouting in fury as his army crumbled, quite literally, against the dunmer onslaught. He began to rain destruction spells of ice upon them. Frea shrugged them off with impunity but the Redoran Guard did not possess the nord resistance to the cold and soon the advance began to waver.

"Keep pushing forward!" bellowed Captain Veleth "Raven Rock is depen-"

She was cut off as an icy spear lodged itself in her stomach knocking her down. The dunmer assault ground to a halt at the sight of their commander on the ground struggling to breathe. Two guardsmen rushed forward and covered her with their shield while another two dragged her back to the Bulwark. Slowly but surely the Redoran Guard began to retreat. All their previous discipline and confidence was gone.

"No!" Frea cried in shock "Stay and fight!"

"We don't take orders from you filthy barbarians!" Was the disdainful reply from the nearest dunmer.

Frea gasped, hurt at the ignorant stereotype of her people. That was when she felt something awake within her. Something primal and inhuman inside of her had become enraged and she felt her blood grow hot, her eyes brimmed with blood lust. She would show the dunmer just how barbaric she could be. The Redoran Guard were the only thing that stood between the necromancer and Raven Rock and now they were turning tail. She would restore their fighting spirit through the obliteration of the abominable ash spawn and the vile necromancer.

She locked eyes with the necromancer who had stepped forward to gloat, instead his ashen features paled with fear. Frea saw the staff in his hand with a chunk of heartstone at the head. A song exploded inside of her mind, she knew each and every word despite never hearing them before. She let loose a wordless cry. The sky shattered with the sound of thunder. The petite, fiery-haired nord that was soon to become known as Frea Dragonborn unleashed her power.

"_**Fo Krah Diin"**_

She did not know where the words came from but there was no denying the power behind them. A billowing tidal wave of ice erupted from her maw and engulfed the ash spawn. The necromancer cried in pain as the ash spawn crumbled away into nothing. The necromancer looked up at her in utter horror and then up at the sky. Frea did not notice the golden ribbons of energy that fell from a white rent heavens and wrapped themselves around her body. Frea charged forward. The remaining ash spawn no match for her. She roared and snarled like a dragon as she ripped them apart with vengeful swipes of her blades. She lunged at the necromancer with both swords. The first pierced his heart the second pierced the heartstone staff.

There was a blinding flash of light and then… nothing. The rent in the sky vanished along with the young Skaal. All that remained was a mountain of spawn ash and the broken form of the necromancer, his face locked in a visage of pure mortal terror.

Thunder tore across the sky.

"_**DOVAHKIIN"**_

The Greybeards called for the dragonborn that would never be taught how to control her power.

At least not in Tamriel.

**I find a grim entertainment on wreaking havoc on an already existing plot line and this chapter has sown the seeds of yet more chaos in Alagaesia.**


	5. Chapter 5

**So here we are longest chapter to date.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>It took The Dragonborn about a week to reach the southern outskirts Palancar Valley at walking pace. He opted not to run so as not to arouse suspicion especially with his already outlandish looking armour as well as his choice of companion who had recently learned to talk<p>

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><p>He was trying to discern how his mind felt so unnaturally open. It was as if his thoughts were reaching out towards everything around him and judging by the flashes of light scurrying about the camp his mind was doing just that. It felt odd to say the least. Telepathic abilities were not unheard of in Tamriel though he had never experienced them before, leaving him as to wonder how he suddenly developed them. Was it a side effect of being bonded to the creature that was now roughly the size of a wolf curled up at his feet?<p>

"Dovakiin" It squeaked. Looking up at him with its brilliant golden eyes. "Dovahkiin."

It squeaked again and suddenly stood up and started hopping around. "Dovahkiin, Dovakiin."

It had a very childlike voice and girlish, one he would usually associate with either Lucia or Sofie as they played in the streets of Solitude. He felt grief well up within him as he thought of his dead children. The dragon nuzzled his leg before he succumbed to his painful memories. He smiled warmly at the beast as he felt a wave of pleasant emotions emanate from the dragon through their bond. _"Dovahkiin."_

So it seemed the dragon had the same mental abilities as well.

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><p>"<em>How long do we intend on remaining here Dovakiin?" <em>His dragon called with her soft, melodic and, to his initial worry, slighty mischievous voice across their mental link. Since her first words her lean yet powerful form had gotten bigger, big enough to ride even though they had yet to try it.

"_No longer than is necessary," _he replied _"we need supplies, information, I need new clothes and you need to stay out of sight when we reach Therinsford." _

His currently nameless dragon flew high above, to the casual observer she would appear to be a hawk. He was being cautious and if his past experiences with bringing dragons to peoples' doorsteps was anything to go by, his dragon would remain hidden in the trees around the Spine. His own attire would need adjusting, dragon priests were the stuff of nightmares for any who had delved into the ancient ruins dotting Skyrim, something a little less conspicuous would suffice. This brought to his latest dilemma. He could either, sneak into Therinsford at night time and steal some clothes or he could walk in during day in his current outfit and buy some with the money he had looted. Both options posed severe risks. The first meant he could remain undetected but someone would eventually pick up on his theft and he didn't want a bounty on his head just yet. The second option would mean that people will see him meaning he could be traced, his armour was quite recognisable.

If what he was being sent to fight was as bad as he thought he'd have to minimize the risk of exposure as much as was possible. In the end he would compromise and go in during the day but do the utmost to remain unnoticed until he made to buy new clothes. He cursed when he entered the town. The layout of the buildings were a jumbled mess without any sense of order. _Jyggolag must be fuming at the sight of this. _This left him with another problem he would either have to go to an inn for information or he could rely on his own intuition which could take time, especially with the chaotic layout of Therinsford and he did not like the idea of leaving his young dragon unattended.

"_I'll be fine Dovahkiin." _She reassured. He didn't doubt that she'd be fearsome in battle but she was, at the moment, quite small and had no combat experience whatsoever. He had been sharing his memories with her quite often when the two were together and in a matter of mere days this young dragoness had grown to know him more intimately than any other. She knew it all, from the earliest memories of his rather troubled childhood to the heart wrenching circumstances of his departure from Nirn. He felt no reservations with sharing his past to the dovah something he would have scoffed at before she had hatched for him. But this was different, they had more or less come into Alagaesia together and for The Dragonborn this was renewal.

He settled to head for an inn. If an incident were to occur then he was confident in his, some would say god-like, abilities. He walked into the nearest establishment and immediately all eyes were upon him. He analysed the patrons. Farmers, blacksmiths and labourers mostly, he'd be fine.

"Morning all." He casually addressed the crowd and paced up to the bar. "A pint of ale or mead if you please."

"You with 'em Empire types that came through askin' questions 'bout some blue stone?" Came the bartender's rather disdainful question. "We ain' got much love for you people 'round 'ere."

"I hold fealty to no one." The Dragonborn answered plainly. "These Empire types, would you please describe them to me?"

"Two of 'em," the bartender said hesitantly and somewhat fearfully The Dragonborn noted "couldn't see 'eir faces. Wore big black cloaks with the king's seal and 'ere was somethin' not right 'bout 'em, just talkin' to 'em they felt evil, as if they weren' human."

The Dragonborn decided to put the man at ease. He dropped his hood and removed his mask and gave the man a kind smile showing that he was indeed human. _Sort of_. He sipped at his ale and pondered as to what these "Empire types" were. Shades? Possibly, though the one he encountered some nights ago saw no reason to hide his face and the mention of the blue stone which he was willing to wager was the dragon egg the elf had sent off.

"So what is it that you do 'en sir?" The bartender seemed to more welcoming now he could see his face.

"Adventurer." He replied immediately and it was the truth he was a professional adventurer and that was how many of Tamriel's greatest heroes started out, that and being a prisoner for an unspecified crime. "Though I'm new to these parts, as in Alagaesia."

"Really?" In truth The Dragonborn saw very little point in hiding it and it may serve to help intimidate the enemies he would undoubtedly make as well as add an air of mystery that they were dealing with something that was completely alien to them. He pondered to himself. The dragon egg was somewhere in Palancar Valley. He closed his mind and peered inwards to his soul, his dovah sil, the most primal and powerful part of his being. He felt the concentrated firestorm of his soul and many others, the ones he had devoured and in turn the ones they had devoured all in orbit around his own like the movements of Masser and Secunda around Nirn. He felt the link between himself and his dragon, like a great tether of thought and emotion connecting them. He listened and he heard his soul sing. It was faint, coming from a distance but his soul and all the others within him called out at the presence of one of their kin further in the valley. There was a tug of feeling coming from his dragon and he knew that she had felt it too.

He finished his drink and paid, asking further questions about the land, history, culture and political climate. What he got was interesting to say the least. They were ruled by an Empire that stretched across most of Alagaesia and a king named Galbatorix who sat on the throne of Uru'baen for over a century and had destroyed the dragons and riders. So that was what he was up against. He also heard of a rebel group named the Varden somewhere beyond the Empire's domain to the east. He got a good sense that the people were highly resentful, to put it lightly, of the king.

"_It seems we are to overthrow a tyrant." _Came his dragon's voice. It irked her somewhat that she had yet to find a name. Though in body she was Alagaesian she bore the dovah sil of her Tamrielic kin and had demonstrated this when she lit the previous night's fire with her voice. As a result she was insistent on having a traditional Dovahzhul name of three words of power describing her personality. He tried to comfort her saying that he too did not possess a name in Dovahzhul and that Dovahkiin didn't really count but she remained adamant so he simply called her Dovah.

He spent the next few days in and around Therinsford gleaning as much information as he could. He had changed his mind about new clothes. Despite its appearance Konahrik felt comfortable, soothing even and he had only ever encountered one man since realising his powers that had made him truly afraid he would change his outfit only if absolutely necessary and purchased very basic dark breeches and tunic along with a thick black cloak. At night he would go to the surrounding forest to his camp and Dovah who spent most of her time in the day flying, hunting or honing her voice at a distance far enough that the residents would merely think it was thunder.

"Tomorrow we set off further up the valley to Carvahall." He said as he leaned on Dovah's foreleg and patted her snout as she turned her long slender neck to look at him with bright golden eyes. "With any luck we'll find that dragon egg," he thought for a moment, "or dragon if it has hatched."

"What will we do when we find it?" Dovah asked curiously. Unlike most of her kin he had spoken to, she did not wax into Dovazhul mid-sentence. The Dragonborn only did so during moments of passion, when his dragon soul was in the most control of his actions.

"I'm unsure hopefully it will be clear when we get there."

"What of the elf?"

"I don't know," he paused and thought for a moment "part of me wants nothing to do with her, I've suffered much at the hands of her kind."

"But not her in particular." Dovah observed.

"I suppose not." He sent a feeling of gratitude to Dovah for once again staying his tainted thoughts.

"What of your request to Bormahu?" She used the Dovahzhul word for Akatosh meaning, our father.

"Again, I have no idea." He answered, it was something he was wondering about also. "I only hope that they arrive soon."

Dovah curled herself around her Rider to keep him warm as the two prepared to turn in for the night.

"Do you think Bormahu will give the other dovakiin a dragon like he gave me to you?" She blinked lazily as she set her head down and covered him with one massive black wing. In the darkness the faint crimson glow between her ebony scales reminded him of a set of daedric armour he once wore.

"I don't think anyone know the whims of our father other than himself." He said before deciding to end the conversation on a happy note. "But I'm sure glad he gave you to me."

"Little one." She said affectionately.

"Little one?" He scoffed. "I remember when you were no bigger than a snow fox."

They both chuckled, his strong and fierce, her melodic and joyful. They both went to sleep with smiles on their faces, their bond comforting one another through the night.

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><p>The next morning he packed up camp early and slung his travel pack across his shoulders. Dovah once again kicked off the ground and took to the skies the icy blue tint of her scales glittering in the early sunlight. It was a sight he was not going to get tired of anytime soon. He chuckled to himself, to think he was admiring the beauty of a dragon when he was one of the most dangerous things to their kind. Him and probably the king of this land.<p>

He began at a steady jog up the road. It was an uneventful journey and he'd stop every now and then to observe a particular plant, with Dovah high in the air she would be able inform him of anything up the road that warranted investigation. It was around midday when he reached Carvahall and to his relief it was far more orderly than Therinsford. He strode up the pathway and spotted a smithy nearby and headed over to have a look, with many passers by giving him wary glances.

"Let me guess," said a tall, hulking man with a wild mane of black hair who was working the forge "you're after some blue stone like your black robed friends that came through earlier."

"I can assure you they are not friends." The Dragonborn realized that it would do no good asking after the dragon egg, rather he would find the whereabouts of the king's agents and interrogate them. He glanced over the forge feeling a slight sense of nostalgia. "It's been too long since I last worked a forge."

"You don't look like a smith." The blacksmith's interest perked.

"I learned to craft my own weapons and armour," he tapped the pommel of Dovahstrum "this is my latest piece."

"That's a real beauty, can't say I recognize what it's made of," the smith said almost in awe of as Dovahstrum glowed warmly as if pleased at the man's comment, "so what can I do for you today sir?"

"Though I'm no friend of the two cloaked strangers I'd like to know where they are," He put his on his sword "so I can put a stop to whatever they are up to."

"Garrow's farm, that's where they were last heading." The blacksmith said urgently "Please catch them quickly, I fear what they might do to him," he paused hesitantly "his nephew, Eragon found a strange blue stone whilst hunting in the Spine."

The Dragonborn nodded his thanks and took off up the road north to Garrow's farm. Dovah figured it would take about half an hour at walking pace but he was running at a speed most horses would be hard pressed to match. When he reached the farm he skidded to a halt at the sight of the door hanging off its hinges. He drew Dovahstrum and walked forward.

"_Dovah, get ready to swoop down at a moment's notice but stay hidden unless absolutely necessary." _He felt his dragon's displeasure at having to stay out of a fight but she reluctantly agreed.

Walking into the farm house he saw his prey crouched over a gaunt faced man who he assumed was Garrow, who bore some very nasty cuts and bruises, he had clearly been tortured. One of the hooded ones was about to pour something that was undoubtedly acid or poison onto Garrow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said his voice becoming ominous as his dragon soul prepared for a fight while Dovahstrum glowed threateningly.

"You have no businesss here." The larger of the two hissed at him. That was when he felt the unnaturalness of their presence and knew that instant the type of entity he was dealing with and when he caught their rotten stench his dragon soul snarled in rage at the thought of some greedy mortal allowing the influence of a daedric lord into his father's realm.

"Neither do you spawn of Namira!" He let out a draconic growl and the daedra before him recoiled.

"How do you know of usss?!" The smaller one squealed but the larger lashed out with a black leaf shaped sword.

He side stepped the blow and grabbed onto the things arm and hurled him at the wall, its thin wood breaking as the daedra passed through it. The Dragonborn leaped after it and the creature recovered just in time to defend itself from the menacing edge of Dovahstrum. The second daedra attempted to approach from behind but he swiftly turned to deliver a brutal chest kick knocking it down. The first brought its sword to bear but he easily parried it and he savagely brought the pommel stone of his sword smashing its face. The second struck again but he met its blade with a counterstroke knocking the sword from its grip it leapt back in alarm but was not quick enough when the tip of Dovahstrum glided across its belly. It screamed as metal as hot as a firebrand yet colder than the harshest winter pierced its flesh. The first rushed to its companion's aid but The Dragonborn jumped to the side and put his foot out sending the creature to the ground. He raised his hand and blasted the creature's with a sunfire spell. Most would be covering their ears at the shrill screams of the creatures before but The Dragonborn felt only satisfaction as he stood over his latest victims.

"Whether you realize it or not but I too once bore Namira's favor and so I will spare you this once," He leaned over and let his thu'um leak into his voice making it like the calm before a storm, "but you have no right to exist in the realm of Akatosh so you better start praying to your Lady that our paths do not cross again for if they do I will send you to Oblivion in pieces."

The two daedra got up and loped away supporting each other. He walked over to Garrow who laid there staring at him in awe. He examined the injuries on the poor farmer and raised his hand. "Hold still." Gold ribbons of light wrapped themselves around Gorrow's body and he glowed with a warm light as his wounds healed, flesh reknitted itself and bruises vanished. He glanced about the ruined farmhouse. "Sorry about that."

"I suppose I owe you my life." Garrow said as The Dragonjborn helped him up off the floor looking at his savior rather nervously which was understandable as many were suspicious of magic and the mask did not help either.

"They had it coming." The Dragonborn shrugged looking down the road to see that the creatures had put a good distance between him and them. "Though I have to ask, do you know what they were after?"

"I suppose I owe you an answer as well." Said Garrow "They were after strange blue stone my nephew found whilst hunting in the Spine."

"Does he what it is?"

"None of us do."

"_Another dovah approaches" _his dragon sounded over their link.

"_Understood, come down." _It seemed the egg had indeed hatched, turning to Garrow. "You are about to find out."

There was a series of loud thudding noises and Garrow clenched his teeth as the sound battered his eardrums, The Dragonborn was unperturbed for he had grown accustomed to the sound of a dragon's wings. Swooping down came a dragon the hue as its egg. Like his own it was lean, slender, powerfully built and it moved with a grace that marked it out as female. Just then his own dragon landed with a loud thump and walked over to his side, both were roughly the same size. The blue dragon looked stunned, causing Dovah to burst out laughing and when the blue looked at her even more incredulously she reared her head up in mirth. Even he had to admit that the look on the blue dragons face was priceless. The he spotted a boy in his late teens on the dragon's back, who he assumed was Eragon, and glanced at Garrow. He lost it. Tearing off his mask he let loose his own bellowing laugh.

"Drem Yol Lok." The Dragonborn said finally after he and Dovah had calmed down. "Zu'u Dovahkiin arhk Dovah Zoriik."

"_How is it that you know the ancestral language of my kin yet I do not nor can I speak as you and your dragon do?" _The blue dragon spoke in shock. Her reaction surprised him somewhat as he did not expect a dragon to be ignorant of her own tongue nor be unable to physically speak. She recognized the words however, she was definitely one of Akatosh's children.

"You are as Bormahu made you as are we, myself and Dovahkiin." Dovah spoke almost pitying the dragon for being voiceless. "What are you called dovah briinah?"

"_Saphira." _Saphira turned to face The Dragonborn _"Are you here to devour me?"_

"Niid," He was not surprised that Saphira knew what he was, all dragons feared him on an instinctive level addressing her with his mind _"if that were the case you'd be nothing more than a skeleton and a few loose scales."_

"Then why are you here?" Eragon had gone over to his uncle. "Are you here to take us to the king?"

"No, but they were," He gestured down the road to the two fleeing black robed daedra. "Now however I'm unsure what our next course of action will be." There was a faint rustling nearby coming from the woods behind the farm house. "Whoever is spying on us, don't bother, I know you're there."

Outstepped a white bearded man with silver hair. At his hip was a steel shortsword and he held a wooden staff inscribed with runes of this world's peculiar form of ehlnofex. The language itself had a few variations back on Nirn such as those used by the falmer, the Ayleids or the Daedra and the near mythical Aedric texts which he had only ever seen three examples of. He thought he recognized this man as one of the villagers of Carvahall but there was something else. He looked at the dragons hopefully not in fear with sharp and calculating blue eyes and he was too lean and too alert to be simple farmer. This was a man who had seen the glorious horrors of war and witnessed the very worst in people.

"Anyone else, or are we all here?" Dovah asked amused at the newcomer's sudden shock. "Yes old one I can talk."

"I must say I was rather admiring your handy work with the Ra'zac." He looked at The Dragonborn. "I'm Brom."

"Warmest welcome I've had, so far I've had a dragon egg land on me, gotten into a fight with a shade and his horned friends, failed to play bodyguard for an elf, been slashed across the side, ran from a magic fuelled forest fire and saved this poor soul here from a pair of daedra, the Ra'zac you called them." He left out his meeting with Akatosh for obvious reasons as they shook hands. "Call me Dragonborn."

"I have yet to find my name." Dovah spoke awkwardly, Brom looked surprised but did not comment.

"Now," The Dragonborn addressed Eragon and Saphira, "we need to discuss the matter of you two, I take it Saphira hatched for you Eragon."

"What's it to you?" He scowled at the boy's suspicion.

"Given as I just saved your uncle's life as well as you and your dragon from a the Ra'zac who will no doubt inform their master, thus I've drawn the ire of the most powerful man in Alagaesia then there is the small matter of me being a Dragon Rider," he glared at Eragon "I do believe this concerns me and my dragon."

"You need to leave Carvahall," Garrow said having gotten his senses together "It's too dangerous for you to stay here."

"Agreed." Brom spoke grimly. "Once the king finds out about this he will send men here to investigate."

"But I what about you uncle?" Eragon said in alarm.

"I won't say a word." Garrow was surprisingly calm given the circumstances "even if it kills me."

"What of Roran?"

"I'll tell him you've left apprenticing under this man." He pointed at The Dragonborn who groaned in annoyance.

"Whatever you do don't mention the dragons," The Dragonborn huffed, "and no I will not be teaching Eragon how to fend for himself."

"I will." Brom cut in, Eragon and Garrow looked at him in surprise, "It's about time I got out of Palancar Valley and someone is going to have start teaching the next generation of Riders."

"You?" Eragon asked somewhat skeptical.

"Yes me," Brom rolled his eyes, "I wasn't always a storyteller and have learned many useful things during my life including knowledge about the Dragon Riders."

"That settles it then." Dovah regarded Eragon with one of her great golden eyes.

"_Where will we be going?" _Asked Saphira

"I'm a foreigner, you know Alagaesia better than I do Brom." The storyteller raised an eyebrow in interest but didn't pry.

"Teirm first, I have a friend there who will have some useful information." He looked to Eragon "we should get some supplies in town before leaving."

"I'll go with you," said Garrow "so that I may say goodbye to my nephew."

"Hide in the Spine and meet us after dark." The Dragonborn addressed the two dragons. Garrow and Brom gazed in wonder as the two mighty beast took element. Saphira glittering like sapphires and Dovah like shards of obsidian. Eragon meanwhile looked down at his feet sad at the prospect of leaving his childhood roots behind.

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><p><strong>I made a slight mistake with the name of the language, it's supposed to be ehlnofex not elfonhex, sorry. I'm not sure if I got the timing right of the ra'zac attacking Garrow with Saphira and Dovah being as big as they are if not I apologise but I'm just going to stick with it. Also in one of reviews a made a mistake with the timeline of TES with the Red Year taking place 200 years prior to Skyrim. Again sorry :( <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay so the reason this chapter is short is because I dislike jumping between POV's mid-chapter otherwise it would have been considerably longer but I just find jumping POV's to be awkward, sorry**

**Anyhow, enjoy. **

Frea looked around the strange ruins utterly bewildered. _What just happened? _One moment she was skewering that necromancer the next she was in this strange ruined tower she had never seen before in Solstheim but this wasn't Solstheim. The air wasn't nearly cold enough and the sky was blanketed with grey rain clouds not black ash clouds. She walked over to a nearby balcony that was simply massive and easily hold a dragon like the ones she had occasionally seen on the island flying the distance. She looked out. _Definitely not in Solstheim anymore._ She looked down and her eyes widened. She was on top of some great mountain that was much too steep to climb. _I won't be getting down that way. _

She gazed over the landscape and a great mountain range she had never seen before, not that there were any mountain ranges on Solstheim. To the north was a valley surrounded by mountains and forests and to the south were immense flat plain over which could see for leagues. Frea stared in amazement at the spectacle, despite the general bizarreness of her predicament it was a truly gorgeous view.

Turning to examine the ruins it didn't look as if the damage had caused naturally over time though judging by some of the overgrown stonework whatever happened here must have occurred years ago. She examined the damage, there were plenty of claw marks, big ones as if some great beast had sought to rip the place apart. There were other marks that could have only been the work of a very sharp blade then there were places where the stone had been distorted, cracked, melted and shattered in ways that were simply weird and could only have been the work of magic. Whatever had occurred here the fight must have been quite impressive to watch.

She noticed a stairwell she made her way down into a series of abandoned rooms that could have once served as quarters for whoever once lived here. But who built this place? She could find no doorway leading to an underground passage and there was no way someone could have climbed over the mountains it was far too steep. _They flew in._ The idea was absurd but it was the only one that made sense. But how did they fly in? She remembered the claw marks and had an inkling as to what caused them. But that was even more absurd. By Skaal standards she was very well versed in history and loved reading books something that her father had often said was an early warning sign of her overly adventurous nature. Frea had only ever heard of two people who could ride dragons. The first was Miraak the second was The Dragonborn.

Did The Dragonborn build this place? It seemed unlikely but she could think of no other alternative since Miraak only had holdings on Solstheim and The Dragonborn had travelled across all of Tamriel. She was snapped out of her reverie by an odd squeaking sound. She drew one of her swords, immensely grateful her weapons and armour had actually arrived with her. Old ruins usually meant undead and she had already had quite enough with the ash spawn.

She looked around. Nothing. No undead hiding behind ruined stonework. So where was that noise coming from. She heard something akin to splintering stone and rushed back up the stairs ready to confront whoever else was in the ruins. She paused at the top of the stairs was some kind of stone shard, she examined it and realised it was from the stone she had found back on the island. She walked forward cautiously and there sitting on a broken pillar was a small red scaled creature with icy blue eyes and a pair of draconic wings. It squawked at her but otherwise just sat there doing nothing. Frea regarded the creature before her. Was it a dragon? No that can't be right, dragons only had two hind legs but she felt something deep within her saying otherwise. It was like a song whose words she had never heard yet knew the meaning to all the same.

She raised her hand.

With a start she realised she had felt it before when she was fighting the ash spawn. She remembered the sheer power that coursed through her veins as she unleashed the rage of her soul on the abominations.

She walked forward.

What was it anyway? When did she come to bear such awesome power? Was it a gift from the All-Maker? What was to become of her? She tried to recall all that she had read in her father's book collection, all the stories she had heard as a little girl. One thing seemed to fit. A single word she had read in the most exciting of epics and the most reverent of tales. Thu'um.

She touched the dragon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Enjoy!**

The Dragonborn fell in step alongside Brom who knew Carvahall better than he did. It was agreed that they would leave the next morning and would spend the remainder of the day purchasing supplies and planning their journey. Before they left the farm he had healed Eragon's legs whose flesh had been torn by rubbing against Saphira's sharp scales, this elicited a great deal of surprise from Brom especially though he doubted it was his using of magic more as to how he used. He sighed, no doubt he was to be bombarded with questions later.

They paced along the bustling streets towards the butcher's shop and all the while Brom appeared grim and Eragon seethed in rage as they walked in. There behind the counter was a small man with a sallow, pockmarked face. Judging by the glares the three other men gave him, which would make Dagon proud, this man was responsible for tipping off the ra'zac. Whether it was due to his twisted sense of humour or not but The Dragonborn was content to just grin behind his mask and enjoy the inevitable shouting match.

"What the hell do think you are doing, Sloan?" Brom said in a threatening tone he did not expect from the old man.

"I was merely helping the passing strangers." Replied the butcher certain his action were justified.

"You almost got my uncle killed!" Yelled an irate Eragon.

"It's true," Garrow said solemnly "were it not for this man here," he gestured to The Dragonborn "I would be dead, they tortured me as it is."

"Well maybe your idiot nephew should have left that damn stone in Spine where it belonged!" The Dragonborn got the sense that Sloan didn't particularly like Eragon or Garrow, for what reason he didn't know. At that moment in walked a copper haired woman.

"Father," She looked nervously at The Dragonborn "what's going on?"

"This doesn't concern you Katrina," The Dragonborn had to admit that Katrina was far more pleasant to look at than her father, a cruel idea formed in his mind and his grin spread further, "back outside."

"Why does this not concern her?" He asked innocently though the intention was anything but, "Do you not think she has the right to know that her father got an innocent man tortured?" Katrina's eyes widened and Sloan paled, gods he could be cruel, even his three companions were looking at him uneasily. And now to deliver the hammer blow. "In fact, had I not arrived at Garrow's when I did the two strangers would have killed, painfully." He raised a flask of clear liquid he had recovered from the scene. A single droplet fell a piece of meat on the counter and hissed angrily as it melted through the flesh. And drive the nail home.

"What?!" shrieked Katrina. She stared at her father with a horrified expression on her face.

"This does not concern you," Sloan said quietly to The Dragonborn, "you have no say in this matter."

"Be silent!" He snapped his voice caused the butcher to yelp in surprise. "Considering how I saved Garrow's life and am now escorting Eragon out of Palancar Valley for his own safety this bloody well concerns me."

At that Sloan drew a meat cleaver and slashed at him. He simply stood there as the collided with his masked face and shattered without leaving the slightest scratch on the golden metal. His hand darted forward and he caught the butcher by throat and he raised him one handed off his feet. He held Sloan there for a moment, the butcher clawed feebly at the gauntleted hand around his neck. He let go and Sloan collapsed in a heap gasping for air

"You will provide compensation to both Garrow and Eragon." Sloan slowly got up and shuffled to the counter staring at The Dragonborn "Now! Do not test me."

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><p>Sometime later they were walking towards the tanner Gedric to procure leather in order to make saddles for the dragons. Katrina had elected to follow them despite The Dragonborn's cruel outburst.<p>

"_Do you not think that you were a little harsh Dovahkiin?" _asked Dovah from somewhere in the Spine.

"_No, he betrayed someone to a pair of daedra." _It was true, if anything The Dragonborn was quite tender compared to some of the other things he had committed in the past.

"_What of his hatchling Katrina?" _He noted that her tone was not judgemental in the slightest, rather it was curious as to his to his actions. _"Did she deserve to hear such a thing about her father?"_

"_She would have heard it from another anyway, better it be a complete stranger than a friend." _

"_Would that not jeopardise any trust you've gained in the village?" _

"_Actually it will do the complete opposite," _He clarified. _"I just saved the life of two members of the village, not only that but I have also exposed the rat within Carvahall and forced him to give compensation. Furthermore it is likely that stories will spread of how I fought and defeated the ra'zac thus the people will see me as someone who is willing to stand up for them. Putting a wedge between Sloan and Katrina will isolate him making it harder for that snake to deter any support I have in the village. Even if my actions had a negative impact it will have little effect seeing as we are going to be traipsing across Alagaesia."_

"_Crafty." _Dovah conceded _"but won't that draw unnecessary attention to us?"_

"_Really?" _The Dragonborn sent a mental image of a Thalmor Justciar unit came after once, their heads mounted on spikes.

"_Fair enough."_

The Dragonborn wrinkled his, in this instance, unfortunately sensitive nose. The tanning vats absolutely reeked. He pitied the poor fellow who had to work this place on a daily basis. He handed Brom some coins to buy the leather then he turned to Katrina.

"I do believe I owe you an apology." He stated simply.

"Perhaps," She spoke plainly, "though I doubt you actually mean it."

"Not bad." It was true, admittedly he had rather enjoyed pushing Sloan around and was rather impressed that Katrina had figured it out. "So what's his problem with Garrow and his family?"

"He hates and fears the Spine more than anyone else in Carvahall because my mother died up there when I was very young" she explained. "Garrow lives, or used to live, very close to those mountains and has suffered no harm, Eragon is the only one who dares to hunt deep in the Spine and has returned unharmed and Garrow's son Roran…" she hesitated "I one day hope to marry."

"Ah." Now he truly felt sorry for endangering Katrina's prospects of marriage. "For that I feel like a right bastard."

She chuckled at his roundabout method of saying sorry.

"Apology accepted."

* * *

><p>The five of them ate at Horst's house that night, the blacksmith who had directed The Dragonborn to Garrow. Albriech and Baldor mostly chatted with Eragon though The Dragonborn shared a few smithing tips with Horst. Otherwise he spent the conversation with Brom, planning their journey or sharing knowledge about their respective homelands.<p>

"Do you have any stories from your homeland?" asked Eragon.

"Yes I'm curious as to where you learned to fight like that." Brom agreed. The Dragonborn paused for a moment thinking. _Why not?_

"I come from a distant land called Tamriel and as I've said before I am called The Dragonborn." He thought for a moment. "Tamriel is land that seeped in magic, the dead rise from their graves to prey upon the living, dragons roam the skies, humans, elves, khajiit and argonians live among one another, the wilderness is crawling with bandits and mighty beasts and the daedra ever seek to grow their influence upon mortals even as the Divines oppose them."

"That sound like a horrible place." Said Elain, Horst's wife.

"I see how you became so formidable." Garrow said. He could see in their eyes, the pity that someone had grown up in such a dangerous place.

"You'd think so, but despite its harsh nature Tamriel is a truly beautiful mistress," he smiled at his memories of his beloved home. "I studied at The College of Winterhold a centre for the study and practice of magic, I fell within the ranks of the Companions the most renowned band of warriors in Skyrim and I learnt at the feet of the great dragon Parthurnaax." He spoke with pride "All I've experienced all the danger has moulded me into the man I am now, many have sought my downfall and I have overcome them all and have become stronger because of it."

The room descended into a contemplative silence. Not long after they had retired to bed and the next day they would leave town. Eragon felt a great deal of anxiety leaving all he had ever known behind though Saphira provided words of comfort. Meanwhile The Dragonborn was very much looking forward to the adventure that was soon to come and he felt over their bond that Dovah felt the same. Brom on the other hand sat in his house contemplating.

He thought of Eragon and once again toyed with the idea of telling him the truth as he had done so for years. _No it would only endanger him to learn that his father was one of Galbatorix's enemies. _He was proud, of that there was no doubt that a dragon had chosen his son as her Rider. _Saphira._ It could not be coincidence that Eragon's dragon bore the same name as his own.

His thoughts drifted to The Dragonborn. The way he used it implied it was more than a mere title and the way he fought the ra'zac went beyond what most elves he had met could achieve he was certainly a veteran of war, possibly bloodier ones than the Rider war, if such a thing was possible. He used magic with impunity and without the ancient language, his dragon could physically talk and Brom was unsure which one was more imposing. The dragon or the Rider. Everything about The Dragonborn carried significance, his robes bore an unnatural sense of authority, and his armour was resplendent of dragon scales and that mask he didn't know what to think of. His sword was truly menacing and seemed to have a personality of its own.

Most terrible of all however was the way he spoke to the ra'zac. He didn't quite catch the words but he felt the power behind them. It undermined his will broke him apart on the inside, it was terrifying and yet it felt… right, as if it was natural to submit before such a creature. Something told Brom that he had only witnessed the surface of The Dragonborn's power and if anything could instil such fear in vile creatures such as the ra'zac… For once Brom was more concerned for the wellbeing of those that would come after them than those who travelled with him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys I had a sudden bought of laziness so, my apologies.**

**Enjoy! **

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><p>They stood on the edge of Carvahall, The Dragonborn, Eragon and Brom. The Dragonborn and Brom were anxious to get going while Eragon said farewell to his uncle, The Dragonborn turned away so as not to pry into Eragon's personnel life. He quickly double-checked his scavenged travel pack along with the looted items within, this caused Brom's curiosity to peak.<p>

"That travel pack is of elven make." The old man observed.

"It is." He answered truthfully.

"From your homeland?"

"No, this belonged to an Alagaesian elf named Arya." At that Brom's eyes widened and his hand went to his sword.

"And how did it come to be in your possession?" he demanded.

"Before you ask," The Dragonborn was glad they were out of earshot of the rest of the village "I'm not the one who attacked the egg courier."

"I feared she had been attacked if she had sent the egg here." He replied gravelly "I recall you saying something about an elf who I guess was Arya but also a shade, care to explain?"

"Later when we make camp for the night," was The Dragonborn's answer "Eragon and Saphira will also want to hear this and it will also help explain how I arrived in Alagaesia."

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><p>True to his word the three of them sat around a campfire that night, electing to pass through Therinsford the next day. Their camp hidden in the surrounding forests the two dragon had come down to join them. During their travels so far Brom had explained the history of the Riders from their founding during this world's version of the Dragon War to their downfall at the hands of Galbatorix. As such The Dragonborn's knowledge on the subject was more or less the same as Eragon's. The day had been fraught with the sound of, what Brom and Eragon assumed to be thunder, The Dragonborn smiled as he knew exactly what it was. He cleared his throat as Brom prompted him to explain.<p>

"What do you know of gods and other worlds?" He asked, Brom furrowed his brow while Eragon tilted his head in confusion.

"Depends on the culture," Brom said slowly "Elves for example don't believe in any gods."

"Well for this discussion I shall only focus on one," said The Dragonborn, finding it odd that the elves here were atheist, especially considering they living in the realm of a god, "do you know of Akatosh, or as Saphira will probably know him, Bormahu?"

Just like that he had her undivided attention, both of her brilliant sapphire eyes fixated on him. Eragon and Brom eyed him warily.

"What I'm about to tell is something that even the dragons of this world seem to forgotten, indeed it is to do with them."

"Which is?" Eragon asked uncertain of the man who commanded both deep fear and respect from his dragon.

"Their heritage," The Dragonborn had changed out of his armour and now they could see his eyes that burned with the passion that had helped shape the course of time. "Akatosh, king of the Aedra, chief of the Nine Divines, the god of time, invincibility and ever-lasting legitimacy and the father of dragonkind." Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped it was clear that Saphira had just confirmed the truth of his words. "All of dragonkind."

Brom was the first to grasp the implications of his last sentence. "I take it you're not called The Dragonborn for nothing."

"I'm a human nord, but I possess the blood and soul of a dragon." He stated simply.

"That's not possible." Said Eragon disbelievingly.

"One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss something that falls outside of his experience as being impossible."

Eragon glared at his pointed comeback. "Saphira can confirm what I am, as to why I'm here." He took a sip of the venison stew they had cooked up. "When I said I'm from a distant land I meant I'm from another plane of existence, Nirn." He raised a hand to silence Eragon's questions. "Akatosh brought me here to save his children, the dragons. When I arrived I also found a dragon egg though I was unsure what to do with it, I then wondered into the nearby forest and came across a band of horned creatures-"

"Urgals" Brom corrected.

"Urgals," he nodded his thanks, "gathered a6round the road preparing an ambush I had only just arrived as such I had next to no idea as to what was happening so simply adopted a wait and see approach, their quarry happened to be a trio of elves," he corrected himself, "or rather one of them, the other two were rather efficiently put down as soon as they came into bow range."

Brom glared at him. "You say that if you admire the way they were killed like animals."

The Dragonborn glared back with his own soul-undermining gaze. "I approve of how they were _slaughtered _like _wretches_."

"And why is that?" Brom stood up to him. Dovah eyed the storyteller warning the old man not to push it.

"I don't like elves." He snarled venomously through gritted teeth, which he noted were still pointed though not in the needle thin way of a vampire more like the jaws of a wolf or more likely a dragon, thick, slightly round and utterly menacing in their brutality. "They are arrogant and believe themselves better to all others."

"Your reasons for such hatred-"

"Are personal." He cut Brom off sharply whilst suppressing a shudder at some of his more unpleasant memories. "And private."

"Why?" Eragon who ignored Saphira's advice as well as Dovah's. "What did they do-"

"I said they were private!" They bath gasped at The Dragonborn's enraged features but Brom recognised something more, something he knew well from himself and any other of the Riders who had lost their dragons. The sheer hurt of a loved one being ripped away and the emotional backlash that was just as likely to lead to despair as it was to bloodlust. Looking at The Dragonborn he guessed it was the latter.

All thoughts of conversation stopped as a single almighty peal of thunder tore across the sky with the fury of a god. All three dragons immediately looked to the horizon for there was no mistaking the handiwork of their father. Eragon felt something emanate from Saphira it was faint sound of voices in a songlike chant. For Dovah and Dovahkiin however the effect was for more profound and their souls sang out in unison as they felt the coming of another of their kind.

"Los nust het?" Dovah finally broke the trance like state, her voice in awe at witnessing the power of The Dragon-God of Time.

"Geh," the man who was no longer The Last Dragonborn smiled up at his partner of heart, mind and soul. "Nust los het." _Yes. They are here._

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter The Dragonborn finally meets his apprentice(s).<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**This story is getting more favs than i expected.**

**Enjoy**

Much like his personality The Dragonborn's mood was split. On one hand he was angry at his travel companions, Eragon especially. After he felt the rift between worlds the boy had resumed his questions despite The Dragonborn's outburst. He admired the boy's courage for daring to tempt his wrath but his questions were nothing short of irritating, especially those on the topic of elves. It wasn't until Saphira pinned him down with one of her talons saying that he didn't want to anger The Dragonborn, did he finally shut up. Brom was eying him even more warily than before, not that the old man could do anything if he tried something, if there was one major flaw to Akatosh's plan is that there were very few people that could actually prevent The Dragonborn from doing something immoral, especially now that he was no longer with Serana his idea of stress relief happened to be violence and cannibalism, in that order.

However there were a few upsides. For one Saphira was rather respectful of him but that was likely due to his power thus regarding him as something of a pack leader, or whatever a group of dragons was called. Then there was the song he felt as he, Dovah and the rest of them stared up at Utgard to Ristvak'baen.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Eragon, The Dragonborn merely ignored him and looked at the glittering obsidian mass that had landed beside them, thankful that the road was empty.

"_Think you can go get them?" _He asked Dovah. This was going to surprise the others though it would explain on why he insisted on buying an extra horse in Therinsford.

"_Easy," _She replied, eager to meet the prospective student. She took off and The Dragonborn could swear she was glowing brighter than normal. Saphira looked on from above.

"_Where's she off to?" _Saphira asked confused.

"_You'll see," _He said simply, suppressing his excitement as the two spoke._ "Come down so we can make camp."_

"_But it's not even nightfall." _The Dragonborn merely grinned.

"We should make camp." He called to Brom and Eragon.

"Bit early don't you think?" Brom eyed him curiously.

"You'll see." Was his only reply, giving them all a particularly fiendish grin.

"_I'm coming down now." _At the sound of his dragon's voice he straightened up and lowered the hood on his cloak. First impressions were important, a lesson he had learned well when he was a child and spending the latter half of his childhood in slavery such things were all the more important.

He wore a kind smile not dissimilar to when he addressed Lucia or Sofie, it helped to form a sense of trust and amiability which was tempered with his head held high to show he was in control. His travel clothes gave an image of humility but Dovahstrum at his hip gave emphasis to his power. If his student was indeed Tamrielic they would know of the crusade that was the Second Great War as well as the bloody legacy behind the blade.

"You do realise that you've been behaving rather odd?" Eragon came and stood beside him while Brom started a campfire and Saphira was currently nibbling on a deer she had caught earlier that day. "Any reason for us stopping so early?"

"Your first question very much depends on your definition of odd as for the second I'm expecting someone." Eragon noted a strange gleam in The Dragonborn's unnaturally sapphire eyes though he could not make out the meaning behind it.

"Who?" Eragon was careful not to elicit another outburst like the night before.

"My apprentice."

"I thought you said you wouldn't be teaching anyone."

"I said I would not be teaching you," he explained before Eragon could retort "the one I'll be teaching has some very specific attributes that you do not possess, my apprentice will be someone like me."

"Another Dragonborn?" Eragon asked worried at having to deal with another of his kind.

"Yes, a novice though, so you need not worry about us being anything alike."

The conversation ended abruptly as Dovah made a rather awkward three legged attempt at landing and skipped a few times trying to compensate for the lack of balance. This however sent her careening into Saphira knocking the blue dragon face first into her meal. The Dragonborn guffawed at the spectacle of two graceful creatures tumbling over one another. He rushed over to the unconscious figure Dovah had dropped. Female. Nord. She looked barely older than Eragon and was quite small by the standards of most Nords. _Dammit Akatosh what are you playing at? _That was when he noted her armour and sword resting loosely on her chest from when Dovah picked her up with her talon, there was a matching blade strapped across her back. Nordic. Stalrhim.

"Skaal." He sighed exasperatedly. This meant he would have to broaden her mind past the generally narrow minded Skaal beliefs on the All-Maker and educate her on the faith of the Nine as well as the various Deadric Princes especially considering the very one sided view they have on the denizens of Oblivion. Still, Skaal were incredibly hardy and he knew that Stalrhim weapons were given to only the most worthy of warriors. Training this one in combat would be interesting but she did not look like a mage though such a thing was difficult to tell at first glance and he noted no enchanted items on her person other than the general magical residue of her swords nor did she look as if stealth was her strong suit, hopefully he would be pleasantly surprised.

Then came a faint squeaking underneath her and out shuffled a small mass of fiery red scales. The little dragon crawled up onto, what he assumed was, its Rider's chest and sat down and looked up at him indignantly as if it was his fault that he was crushed beneath an armoured Skaal, which it technically was.

"Hello maldovah." He greeted the hatchling warmly giving it an apologetic smile for its predicament. It looked down at its Rider's face and then back up "don't worry it happened to me as well."

He stood up and was about to go over to Dovah only to dive to the floor as a flash of the glittering sapphire of Saphira's tail rushed overhead. Dovah meanwhile was rushing at her left flank. _B'Vek._ They were at each other's throatsquite literally. Already both Saphira and Dovah had several nasty gashes marring their gorgeous scales. They pulled apart and began circling one another growling threateningly at one another.

"You're no match for me you Voiceless bitch!" Dovah hissed venomously.

"_That is rich coming from one who does not even have a name!" _Saphira snapped back.

They rushed at one another clawing and snapping and occasionally bludgeoning each other with massive tails. Saphira dived atop of Dovah seeking to pin the other dragoness, her claws digging into obsidian scales. In retaliation, Dovah sank her teeth into one of Saphira's wings. Saphira recoiled in agony and roared in fury. Dovah whipped her tail about to strike Saphira caught the offending appendage in her jaws and clamped down hard resulting in a pained hiss from the ebon dragoness. Dovah had thus far neglected to use her Voice and due to their bond her own mastery potentially rivalled The Dragonborn's. If she were to call upon her otherworldly powers their little scuffle would become very one-sided.

The Dragonborn was not about to let their fight escalate. Just as Saphira once again dived on top of Dovah he struck.

"_**Fus Ro Dah."**_

The billowing tsunami of raw force tore from his throat and slammed the space between the two dragons with the wrath of hurricane. Saphira was thrown off of Dovah and was sent reeling into the remains of nearby tree that had been shattered in the blast. Dovah meanwhile was sent sprawling into the dirt. She looked up and grimaced at the stern expression on her Rider. Saphira growled at him but a particularly withering glare was enough to silence her.

"Are you two done bickering like children?" He asked completely devoid of emotion. His eyes however held a cold fury.

"_She started it." _Saphira huffed indignantly.

"She attacked first!" Dovah protested.

"Enough!" They both fell silent. He had to remind himself that they were indeed children. His attention was drawn by the prone figure behind him groaning back into consciousness. "I'll deal with you two later."

Rubbing her temples the Skaal slowly got to her feet, she turned and yelped at the sight of two bloodied dragons peering intently. She took a step backwards and drew her other sword pointing both tips in their direction. Brom came over to calm her but a new idea had formed in The Dragonborn's mind.

"I want to see what she can do." He held up his hand to stop Brom and proceeded to draw Dovahstrum. Bringing the nigh daemonic blade he held the grip with both hands he stared intently at the young Nord. "Defend yourself!"

The Skaal struck first bringing both swords in a sweeping arc. The Dragonborn stepped and the lethal icy edges passed harmlessly through nothing. She savagely again with a single blade that was swatted aside with Dovahstrum. The Skaal was not lacking in ferocity he noted, there was talent and some experience but her strikes were predictable and then there was the almost universal problem when it came to dual wielding. He retaliated rather lazily swinging his blade at her. The attacks were basic as she went on the defensive she redirected the blows or avoided them entirely. It was as he suspected, she was limited by the trade-off of being able to deal almost double the damage, she lacked the strength to block a direct strike with only a single arm. The Dragonborn raised his sword with both hands and brought it down hard. The young Nord gasped in surprise and desperately brought both swords to meet Dovahstrum's lethal edge. The impact jarred her body and sent staggering backwards barely keeping hold of her weapons she landed on her backside with a loud thump.

The Dragonborn was about to call it there but then noted something odd in the fiery haired Nord's icy eyes. A strange gleam, something primal, feral and incomprehensibly powerful. He planted Dovahstrum in the ground and stepped back smiling knowingly at his apprentice. To her credit this did not put her off and she unleashed her voice.

"_**Fo Krah Diin."**_

He simply stood there as the wave of frost engulfed him. Her Voice was strong, most mortals would crumble before it but he was far from mortal. His Nord blood resistant to the cold and his sheer willpower that had defied gods was more than enough that when the Shout dissipated, to everyone's astonishment, he stood there with the exact same knowing smile as before and staring directly at his opponent.

"_**Zun Haal Vik."**_

An almighty metallic clang pierced the air and the stalrhim swords were torn from the woman's grasp. As they sailed through the air The Dragonborn deftly caught the one in each hand and planted them both into the ground beside Dovahstrum. The Skaal looked on now fearful of this formidable adversary as a deer would observe a wolf.

"Traditionally it is the eldest who speaks first at the meeting of two of our kind but I'm guessing this is all new to you so I'll forgive you this once but do not make the same mistake again." He walked over to the young Skaal and proffered a hand to help her to her feet. "You could have picked a better Shout than Frost Breath considering I'm also a Nord, try Fire Breath or Unrelenting Force also your since your new to this your dovah sil needs focusing in order for your Voice to become more potent." She carefully took his hand and he pulled her up. "Your form was skilled but there in room to improve and we'll need to work around your inability to block properly with two swords." He cast a healing spell and she looked visibly relieved and refreshed as all feeling of fatigue was banished, The Dragonborn finished his evaluation. "All in all, an admirable effort for our first training session now would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"

She appeared hesitant and most definitely bewildered by his sudden appraisal of her abilities and the abrupt end of to their duel. "Frea."

The Dragonborn appeared surprised for a moment and then laughed. "Named after a certain shaman of your tribe whom I had the privilege of fighting beside I bet."

"How could you possibly…" Frea appeared stunned. Looking carefully he saw the resemblance in the facial structure and eye colour even her accent was virtually identical. "You're _The _Last Dragonborn, Bane of Alduin, Slayer of Harkon, Vanquisher of Miraak, Scourge of the Aldmeri Dominion and Destroyer of Elves!"

"I see my reputation precedes me." He said casting a sheepish glance at Brom and Eragon, the former of whom was glaring daggers at him. He could have sworn his dovah sil felt Akatosh laughing.

"The stories say you've been dead for over a century" Frea deadpanned.

"What!?" _A century! _He was beginning to wish his father was not the god of time.

"But there are others, especially the religious texts, which debate over your current status." She added hastily.

"Meaning?" He asked slowly, not liking where this was going one bit.

"There was some argument over whether or not you had ascended to divinity like Talos…" _Oh shit! _"But in the end they decided to proclaim you a saint instead."

"Of what exactly?" _Sainthood is not as bad as godhood but still._

"War, vengeance, salvation and divine retribution."

There was silence as The Dragonborn had no way of denying something so fitting. Uncomfortable he decided to change the topic. "You're no doubt wondering why you're here."

"Am I dead?" She asked glancing around with some trepidation.

"No, but your no longer on Nirn," He leaned in so the others would not hear save Saphira and Dovah "you're in the realm of Akatosh."

"I don't follow that pantheon." She said apologetically.

"Don't worry I'll explain in way that should be acceptable to your beliefs." He said smiling kindly "Also I would like to correct you on one of my titles" He looked her directly in eyes and saw the power of her soul for what it was. "I am no longer The Last Dragonborn."

Frea's eyes widened and her face paled. "You Frea of the Skaal, are here to learn and over time my knowledge all things both mundane and arcane shall be given unto you. You are to be my apprentice, your dragon too." Startled Frea glanced down at the crimson hatchling at her, its icy blue eyes peering up at her. _I swear Akatosh is making us colour coded._

They talked little that night other than general introductions. The Dragonborn merely contemplated what he had learned. A lot could change in a century, especially where Tamriel was concerned. One image in particular burned in his mind and haunted his dreams for he knew she would still be alive.

Serana Volkihar


End file.
